Drifter: Sunday, January 15, 2006
we don't need no education
Teachers: shapers of destiny or scum of the earth?
The Iceman .cometh
if your computer is incapable of rendering in 1024x768, you have no business being here
About Me
- Name: Drifter
Out of the night that covers me,
black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance,
my head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
looms but the horror of the shade,
and yet the menace of the years
finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
how charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
Drifter: Sunday, January 15, 2006
we don't need no education
Drifter: Monday, January 09, 2006
all hail the police!
Here's yet another shining example of how the great policing machine does its best to lead by example:
Drifter: Sunday, January 08, 2006
FAQ
[pronounced "far-kyou"]
These are a few questions a few people've been asking me with irriating frequency.
I'd like to answer 'em all here.
Q. So wassup?
A. Nothing.
Q. Umm... okay. What happened to your Google job?
A. Didn't make it.
Q. Why?
A. How the fuck am I supposed to know? Maybe I was too shaggy. Maybe I was to smelly. Maybe I was too brash. Maybe I was too dull. Maybe my underwear peeked out. Maybe I had acute gingivitis... WHATEVER. How in the blue hell am I supposed to know?
Q. Anyway, what next?
A. The game I'm raping to death. Poseidon - Zeus' Official Expansion.
Q. *incredulous* Are you serious?
A. Do you see any reason why I should be funny now?
Q. But what about money? How are you gonna earn your living?
A. If you have a wad of cash to spare, please feel free to part with it. Otherwise, BUGGER OFF! How I'm gonna earn my living ain't none of your goddamn business.
Q. So are you gonna apply to Google again?
A. Never. I will NOT EVER do anything that requires me to pretend that I'm not me. I'm a pessimist. I'm full of myself. I like flying solo and respect people who respect me for what I am. The others don't blip on my RADAR.
Q. err... awright. But where does Google figure here?
A. Looks like you're not very perceptive. Google wanted me to 'act like a team player', 'show zeal towards life', 'show excitement about the job and my future'... and stupid crap like that.
I AM a team player when I respect the people in my team. I AM zealous about my life or else I'd have been compost by now. And if I wasn't excited about the job, I wouldn't have applied.
It doesn't take Einstein to figure that out. But no! They want me to peddle my ass. They want me to bounce around the room. They disturb me by taking notes when I speak like I'm a goddamn lab rat. Then they don't squeak for ten days after which I get a flowery email that essentially means "piss off, you're no good".
Fine. But do I have to wait ten days in suspense to hear bad news? Do I have to stay glued to my phone all the time? Do I have to shelve all my plans indefinitely until I receive that sacred call? I don't think so.
Q. he he he...
A. What?
Q. You're acting like a hypocrite by bad-mouthing Google on it's own servers.
A. Sue me.
Q. So your future plans?
A. Finish my game, make some money if possible, then find a quick and painless way to die.
Q. Man! You sound like a loser!
A. I didn't ask you for your analysis of my psyche. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go back to my game.
These are a few questions a few people've been asking me with irriating frequency.
I'd like to answer 'em all here.
Q. So wassup?
A. Nothing.
Q. Umm... okay. What happened to your Google job?
A. Didn't make it.
Q. Why?
A. How the fuck am I supposed to know? Maybe I was too shaggy. Maybe I was to smelly. Maybe I was too brash. Maybe I was too dull. Maybe my underwear peeked out. Maybe I had acute gingivitis... WHATEVER. How in the blue hell am I supposed to know?
Q. Anyway, what next?
A. The game I'm raping to death. Poseidon - Zeus' Official Expansion.
Q. *incredulous* Are you serious?
A. Do you see any reason why I should be funny now?
Q. But what about money? How are you gonna earn your living?
A. If you have a wad of cash to spare, please feel free to part with it. Otherwise, BUGGER OFF! How I'm gonna earn my living ain't none of your goddamn business.
Q. So are you gonna apply to Google again?
A. Never. I will NOT EVER do anything that requires me to pretend that I'm not me. I'm a pessimist. I'm full of myself. I like flying solo and respect people who respect me for what I am. The others don't blip on my RADAR.
Q. err... awright. But where does Google figure here?
A. Looks like you're not very perceptive. Google wanted me to 'act like a team player', 'show zeal towards life', 'show excitement about the job and my future'... and stupid crap like that.
I AM a team player when I respect the people in my team. I AM zealous about my life or else I'd have been compost by now. And if I wasn't excited about the job, I wouldn't have applied.
It doesn't take Einstein to figure that out. But no! They want me to peddle my ass. They want me to bounce around the room. They disturb me by taking notes when I speak like I'm a goddamn lab rat. Then they don't squeak for ten days after which I get a flowery email that essentially means "piss off, you're no good".
Fine. But do I have to wait ten days in suspense to hear bad news? Do I have to stay glued to my phone all the time? Do I have to shelve all my plans indefinitely until I receive that sacred call? I don't think so.
Q. he he he...
A. What?
Q. You're acting like a hypocrite by bad-mouthing Google on it's own servers.
A. Sue me.
Q. So your future plans?
A. Finish my game, make some money if possible, then find a quick and painless way to die.
Q. Man! You sound like a loser!
A. I didn't ask you for your analysis of my psyche. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go back to my game.